


Deliberation & Impulse

by violetvaria



Category: Monk (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Mild Language, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 11:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17642219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: Disher's thoughts on Stottlemeyer, and Stottlemeyer's thoughts on Disher. A hint of father/son or mentoring relationship.





	1. Deliberation

**Author's Note:**

> Randy's POV

He calls me _son_ when he wants me to do something, generally when I’m doing something else. He uses it in times of deep emotion and stress. He uses the word like he uses everything he has—as a weapon.

And like everything else, he does it deliberately. It never just slips out—no, then it’s _Randy_. His _son_ s are only after he’s thought about it and decided he needs it, needs to use it, needs a way to get me to do what he wants.

Not like Monk’s _Leland_ s. Those come out without him seeming to realize it, and Monk realizes everything. But in times of deep emotion, it’s _Leland_ , accidentally, naturally. Without thinking. Monk, not thinking.

And Captain Leland Stottlemeyer _always_ thinks before using the word “son.”

The first time was when Karen was in the hospital. I know from what he’s said that Monk must have been even worse after Trudy was—after Trudy, but I’ve never seen anyone that crazed. Possessed, almost. I didn’t know what to do. I guess a lot of people would say that isn’t too unusual for me. Maybe they’d even be right. But with the Captain, I _knew_. Ever since he made me his lieutenant, I just knew we had something, some connection. Like partners.

And then he was so deep in grief and anger he couldn’t even see me, and he called me _son_ then, and it was to keep me from getting in. I’m pretty sure that’s what it was, ‘cause he didn’t care what I said or did. He walked away from me and told me in barely politer words to mind my own damn business, _son_ , because he had something to take care of.

That was the first time, and it didn’t work then. I went with him.

It isn’t the sort of thing I can question him about. I can ask him anything about the job, about what we do, even if he won’t answer, but…I have no right to ask this. No right to question what’s meant to be a gift anyway.

That’s what he thinks it is. He thinks I like it. He thinks it works. And he ignores the times it doesn’t and keeps using it anyway.

When he was shot, I was the one who was frantic, who was focused and mad. It wasn’t life-threatening, thank God, but enough to make me want to wring the bastard shooter’s neck. And he wanted to call me away, to get me to back away from feeling too much. Maybe he thought he owed it to me. Maybe that’s why his “good work” added “son” after it.

I’ve never been shot—knock on wood—but I did get run down by a car once. By the time he got there, the medics had already been and I wasn’t feeling a thing with all those painkillers. But I still heard him—a little—asking for information, thinking that if he just used that word that nobody else uses for me, maybe I’d come down off the high long enough to cooperate. I don’t really remember what happened, but I guess I didn’t respond, because when I finally woke up again, he was asking the same questions.

It never works, so I don’t know why he keeps using it. It doesn’t do him any good. But he does it deliberately, like it’s something he has to do. And he thinks he does it for me.

Maybe he isn’t wrong.


	2. Impulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stottlemeyer's POV

I tell him he doesn't think before he acts, and he sometimes agrees, but he doesn't change. I don't know if he doesn't want to or if he can't or if he thinks I don't want him to.

Sometimes I don't know if I want him to either.

Everything he does is an impulse. Every comment he makes—you know he didn't think about it first. Occasionally it helps. Usually it just pisses everyone off. And by everyone, I mean me.

And he sure doesn't think before he acts. I didn't figure that out until the second or third time he stepped in front of me to straighten my tie. The kid honestly hadn't stopped to think before doing it. I could see it on his face. He didn't realize what he was doing until there he was, fingers busy, eyes narrowed, like that crazy-obsessed clothing designer we arrested. And since I didn't say anything, I guess he figures now he can do it whenever he wants.

But he's still a damn good cop, in spite of it all. Hell, maybe it's because of it. I don't know. I figure he's worth the space he takes up by virtue of his solid routine work. I figure his instincts will kick in eventually.

Either that, or someone will kick some sense into him. Maybe me.

Yeah. Maybe someday I’ll get the impulse.


End file.
